The week has slowly ticked by, and tomorrow we will be going to see my mother. To say I'm not looking forward to this is a grand understatement.
When something is weighing on me, everything else that's worrisome seems to escalate as well. I am worrying about John, as usual. We've had this ongoing business with his knee; it's verrrrrrry slowwwwwwly improving, but he still can't take his walks or bike rides. In recent months, he seems to have developed sleep apnea; he snores horribly and we can't sleep together anymore. He is supposed to go for one of those overnight sleep studies, but between his work and concerns about his knee and about his own mother (who is going into an assisted facility this weekend), he hasn't addressed that issue. And speaking of work -- last night, we were on the phone at 8:30 and he was still at the office. No wonder I simply don't have it in me to be involved with my mother's non-life. Worrying about John is a full-time job.
Tomorrow will go as it goes. My stepfather will either be accepting or he won't. I'm not going to beg him to forgive me. And after tomorrow, I will make an effort to focus on good things ahead.
I'm shooting with Lily Starr this Wednesday; we rescheduled and I look forward to that. BBW is a month away, and that will bring me much joy. Not just the playing, but seeing so many dear friends and meeting new ones. It will be a soul-nurturing four days.
And, as a friend pointed out, there is always a Monday coming. ST, I appreciate you more than you'll ever imagine. You are a gift that just keeps giving.
Finally, a word about low-life, bottom-feeding scum suckers. Also known as people who post attacks via anonymous comments. You think I'm disgusting? No. Disgusting is deliberate, calculated meanness, and the cowardice of hiding behind an anonymous post. You don't like me, or my writing? Nobody's holding a gun to your head; don't read my blog or anything else I write. At the end of the day, I can look in the mirror and know that I haven't gone out of my way to hurt anyone or ruin their day; you can't say the same. And until you've lived my life and known what it's like to be my mother's daughter, don't you fucking dare judge my family situation.
To my friends, I wish y'all a great weekend.
Friday, March 30, 2012
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Odds and Ends not in my book, part 8
This is definitely off-topic, but funny. I figured we could all use some humor in our mid-week.
In his later years, my father had a very close friend, an actress named Sheila Rogers. One of those actresses you wouldn't know by name, but if you watched sitcoms throughout the 1960s and '70s, you'd have seen her. She was always a mom/neighbor/secretary/nurse/etc.
She'd also been in a commercial back in the 70s, I think -- it was for some air freshener, I forget which one. Those of my age group may remember it: A woman answers her doorbell, and three of her friends walk in. One by one, each one comments about the smells in her house.
Friend #1: Fried fish for dinner again, dear?
Friend #2: George still smoking those cigars?
Friend #3: Oh, did you get a new cat?
Friend #3 was Sheila. Anyway, cut to 2003, when Sheila passed away and John and I were invited to her memorial. Some of you will recall my writing about my father's memorial, and how it was more of a comic-fest than a sob-fest. Sheila's wasn't much different.
When we were all gathered, the room darkened and a video began playing on a large screen up front. In Memoriam: Sheila Rogers. The first thing that came on was that old air-freshener commercial. The first and second women walked in, delivered their lines. Then in walked Sheila. But instead of the scripted line, she made a face and said:
"Wow! Did a cow shit in here?"
I nearly wet myself, I was laughing so hard. To this day, every time John and I pass a fertilized lawn, smell a skunk or anything else that stinks, he says that exact line, and I still laugh.
You gotta hand it to show-biz people: they know how to put on a memorial.
For more laughs, check out Hermione's Wednesday WIN.
EDIT: I just found out, thanks to Al, that this commercial spoof was featured in the Kentucky Fried Movie from 1977. The vignette is entitled "Household Odors." How funny -- I didn't know this! :-D
In his later years, my father had a very close friend, an actress named Sheila Rogers. One of those actresses you wouldn't know by name, but if you watched sitcoms throughout the 1960s and '70s, you'd have seen her. She was always a mom/neighbor/secretary/nurse/etc.
She'd also been in a commercial back in the 70s, I think -- it was for some air freshener, I forget which one. Those of my age group may remember it: A woman answers her doorbell, and three of her friends walk in. One by one, each one comments about the smells in her house.
Friend #1: Fried fish for dinner again, dear?
Friend #2: George still smoking those cigars?
Friend #3: Oh, did you get a new cat?
Friend #3 was Sheila. Anyway, cut to 2003, when Sheila passed away and John and I were invited to her memorial. Some of you will recall my writing about my father's memorial, and how it was more of a comic-fest than a sob-fest. Sheila's wasn't much different.
When we were all gathered, the room darkened and a video began playing on a large screen up front. In Memoriam: Sheila Rogers. The first thing that came on was that old air-freshener commercial. The first and second women walked in, delivered their lines. Then in walked Sheila. But instead of the scripted line, she made a face and said:
"Wow! Did a cow shit in here?"
I nearly wet myself, I was laughing so hard. To this day, every time John and I pass a fertilized lawn, smell a skunk or anything else that stinks, he says that exact line, and I still laugh.
You gotta hand it to show-biz people: they know how to put on a memorial.
For more laughs, check out Hermione's Wednesday WIN.
EDIT: I just found out, thanks to Al, that this commercial spoof was featured in the Kentucky Fried Movie from 1977. The vignette is entitled "Household Odors." How funny -- I didn't know this! :-D
Monday, March 26, 2012
I forgive you, Tim Burton
(No, I don't. I just said that 'cause ST insisted. Explanation to follow shortly.)
OK, I promised a more fun blog tonight; enough of this depressing life stuff for a while. I had doubts about whether or not I'd be able to deliver, but ST distracted me and made me laugh -- exactly what I needed.
So what's this about Tim Burton? Well. I'm not going to go into it a whole lot tonight; in the future, I will posting the mother of all rants, but I'm not ready for that yet. In a nutshell, here's the story: Y'all know how impassioned I am about Dark Shadows. And you're all no doubt familiar with Tim Burton, the man who has created all those bizarro movies over the years (some good, others dreadful). For years (literally), there has been talk about how he and Johnny Depp were collaborating on a Dark Shadows movie. Apparently Depp is a huge DS fan and has wanted to play the vampire Barnabas Collins for most of his life. Long story short, the film has finally become a reality. It opens in May, but the trailer came out about a week-and-a-half ago, along with the official movie poster.
Tim Burton and Johnny Depp have taken a much-beloved cult classic, a gothic horror soap opera, and turned it into a comedy. A campy, cheesy spoof of the show, with a vampire from the 1700s being released from a coffin into the 1970s (complete with disco, and Depp's character freaking out when he sees a television). While the original Barnabas looked like everyone else (so he could blend in and keep the secret of his vampirism), Depp's Barnabas has thick, pasty-white makeup on, with blood-red lips and dark rings around his eyes. He looks like a circus freak. Or Michael Jackson.
What a viral firestorm. You have the camp on one side, the tweens, the Twilight fans, the Burton-Depp-ites, who think it looks hilarious and can't wait to see the movie. Then there's the other camp -- the die-hard fans of the original who think this reinvention is a travesty. Twitter, Facebook and several forums have been buzzing with this controversy. And guess which camp I'M in?
It started when I first saw the trailer and went berserk. Then I started finding the various forums and posting on those. And finally, I found kindred spirits on Twitter and I have been tweeting bitchy, snarky comments about the movie and what I think of Burton & Co. ever since. Many have "favorited" and retweeted me. Others probably think I'm a complete pain in the ass and need a life.
An article in yesterday's L.A. Times Calendar section fanned the flames: it was about the film and the writer's tone toward the original show was rather condescending. Tim Burton was quoted as saying that technically, the original was "actually awful." Some fan! I was so pissed off, I wrote an email to Calendar Letters (let's see if they publish it). One of the stars of DS, Kathryn Leigh Scott, didn't care for the article either, and she blogged about it (I commented to her, but didn't include my blogsite link out of discretion). I tweeted my fool head off about it today. An example of my tweets? "So Tim Burton thinks the original Dark Shadows was awful? Mr. Burton, you can bite me. And not my neck, either."
So what does this have to do with tonight? Connect the dots, kids. I got taken to task for being such a "trouble-maker" and "wreaking havoc all over the Internet." Oh, good grief.
"It's just a movie!" he said, making his point (whatever the hell that was) with the Spanking Buddy.
"It is NOT!" I screeched in indignation. "It's a desecration of my childhood memories!" My melodrama didn't seem to faze him.
It got progressively more ridiculous as the scene wore on, with ST saying that Tim Burton and Johnny Depp probably saw my tweets and are highly insulted, and Johnny Depp probably wants to come over and spank me. (I didn't find that notion at all unpleasant, as long as he doesn't wear that stupid makeup.) I snapped that Burton and Depp have better things to do than to monitor my tweets.
ST also thought I was judging too much on just a trailer and I should see the movie. "Never!" I hollered. "Not in the theater, not on Netflix, not on DVD. They'd have to pay ME to watch it."
"You're like a child who won't try her peas!" he scolded. "You should try things before you decide you don't like them." Hey, if Tim Burton or Johnny Depp want to serve me peas, I'll eat them. But I'm not losing two hours of my life to that piece of dreck.
Long, long battle of wills, kiddies. Finally, ST had to concede that nothing he could do would stop me from continuing with my tweets and other postings, or change my mind about the new film. But really, I should be nicer to Burton and Depp. After all, it's the movie I hate, not them, per se. So... I had to count out 25 strap strokes and after each one, say, "I forgive Tim Burton and Johnny Depp."
Yes, really.
I was obedient, counting out each one and repeating the phrase. But after #25, I added (very loudly), "But their movie SUCKS!!!"
I had to have the last word, didn't I? I mean, we're talking principle here.
(And yes, I know I'm being utterly obsessive and silly about this, but you ain't heard nothin' yet.)
Anyway, here I am, holding the paper with that damned article:
Notice that header, "Playing with Dark Shadows"? That's exactly what those buttheads did. And here's what I think of it:
I've already tweeted the second picture. :-Þ
All silliness aside -- tonight, as always, ST managed to give me what I needed. Last week was about intensity. Tonight was about lightening up, having some laughs and just forgetting all the BS for a couple of hours.
What more could a bottom girl want, really? (Well, besides a little more respect for her show, but whatever...)
OK, I promised a more fun blog tonight; enough of this depressing life stuff for a while. I had doubts about whether or not I'd be able to deliver, but ST distracted me and made me laugh -- exactly what I needed.
So what's this about Tim Burton? Well. I'm not going to go into it a whole lot tonight; in the future, I will posting the mother of all rants, but I'm not ready for that yet. In a nutshell, here's the story: Y'all know how impassioned I am about Dark Shadows. And you're all no doubt familiar with Tim Burton, the man who has created all those bizarro movies over the years (some good, others dreadful). For years (literally), there has been talk about how he and Johnny Depp were collaborating on a Dark Shadows movie. Apparently Depp is a huge DS fan and has wanted to play the vampire Barnabas Collins for most of his life. Long story short, the film has finally become a reality. It opens in May, but the trailer came out about a week-and-a-half ago, along with the official movie poster.
Tim Burton and Johnny Depp have taken a much-beloved cult classic, a gothic horror soap opera, and turned it into a comedy. A campy, cheesy spoof of the show, with a vampire from the 1700s being released from a coffin into the 1970s (complete with disco, and Depp's character freaking out when he sees a television). While the original Barnabas looked like everyone else (so he could blend in and keep the secret of his vampirism), Depp's Barnabas has thick, pasty-white makeup on, with blood-red lips and dark rings around his eyes. He looks like a circus freak. Or Michael Jackson.
What a viral firestorm. You have the camp on one side, the tweens, the Twilight fans, the Burton-Depp-ites, who think it looks hilarious and can't wait to see the movie. Then there's the other camp -- the die-hard fans of the original who think this reinvention is a travesty. Twitter, Facebook and several forums have been buzzing with this controversy. And guess which camp I'M in?
It started when I first saw the trailer and went berserk. Then I started finding the various forums and posting on those. And finally, I found kindred spirits on Twitter and I have been tweeting bitchy, snarky comments about the movie and what I think of Burton & Co. ever since. Many have "favorited" and retweeted me. Others probably think I'm a complete pain in the ass and need a life.
An article in yesterday's L.A. Times Calendar section fanned the flames: it was about the film and the writer's tone toward the original show was rather condescending. Tim Burton was quoted as saying that technically, the original was "actually awful." Some fan! I was so pissed off, I wrote an email to Calendar Letters (let's see if they publish it). One of the stars of DS, Kathryn Leigh Scott, didn't care for the article either, and she blogged about it (I commented to her, but didn't include my blogsite link out of discretion). I tweeted my fool head off about it today. An example of my tweets? "So Tim Burton thinks the original Dark Shadows was awful? Mr. Burton, you can bite me. And not my neck, either."
So what does this have to do with tonight? Connect the dots, kids. I got taken to task for being such a "trouble-maker" and "wreaking havoc all over the Internet." Oh, good grief.
"It's just a movie!" he said, making his point (whatever the hell that was) with the Spanking Buddy.
"It is NOT!" I screeched in indignation. "It's a desecration of my childhood memories!" My melodrama didn't seem to faze him.
It got progressively more ridiculous as the scene wore on, with ST saying that Tim Burton and Johnny Depp probably saw my tweets and are highly insulted, and Johnny Depp probably wants to come over and spank me. (I didn't find that notion at all unpleasant, as long as he doesn't wear that stupid makeup.) I snapped that Burton and Depp have better things to do than to monitor my tweets.
ST also thought I was judging too much on just a trailer and I should see the movie. "Never!" I hollered. "Not in the theater, not on Netflix, not on DVD. They'd have to pay ME to watch it."
"You're like a child who won't try her peas!" he scolded. "You should try things before you decide you don't like them." Hey, if Tim Burton or Johnny Depp want to serve me peas, I'll eat them. But I'm not losing two hours of my life to that piece of dreck.
Long, long battle of wills, kiddies. Finally, ST had to concede that nothing he could do would stop me from continuing with my tweets and other postings, or change my mind about the new film. But really, I should be nicer to Burton and Depp. After all, it's the movie I hate, not them, per se. So... I had to count out 25 strap strokes and after each one, say, "I forgive Tim Burton and Johnny Depp."
Yes, really.
I was obedient, counting out each one and repeating the phrase. But after #25, I added (very loudly), "But their movie SUCKS!!!"
I had to have the last word, didn't I? I mean, we're talking principle here.
(And yes, I know I'm being utterly obsessive and silly about this, but you ain't heard nothin' yet.)
Anyway, here I am, holding the paper with that damned article:
Notice that header, "Playing with Dark Shadows"? That's exactly what those buttheads did. And here's what I think of it:
I've already tweeted the second picture. :-Þ
All silliness aside -- tonight, as always, ST managed to give me what I needed. Last week was about intensity. Tonight was about lightening up, having some laughs and just forgetting all the BS for a couple of hours.
What more could a bottom girl want, really? (Well, besides a little more respect for her show, but whatever...)
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Life, continued
Home from John's. Thank you to everyone who commented or sent me supportive tweets. They mean a lot to me.
Just to wrap up the saga from Friday, I called M today. I told John, "Don't let me leave without calling him." Because I knew if John weren't there, my courage would fail. As it was, my heart was banging when I dialed the number.
It didn't go well. He wasn't mean, but he was cold. When I suggested that John and I come out next Saturday to have dinner with him, he said no, he'd rather not. Said he was hurt and flabbergasted by my absence and he'd just as soon not see us. I didn't try to explain myself; I knew I couldn't. Everything I could say would sound like a lame excuse. So I just said I'm sorry, I don't blame him, and there was no way I could make him understand where I was coming from, so there was no use in trying. He said "I understand, I think. But I can't condone it."
OK. I said that's fine, but I still want to see my mother. He said, "Well, you'd better hurry up." Ugh. I asked how she was, and he said she's still in the same facility, but under hospice care now. Round-the-clock care, never gets out of bed, almost never eats anything. Basically, they're just keeping her comfortable; it could be tomorrow, or it could be next year. He goes to see her every day. Sometimes, she recognizes him.
I can't go there during the week; there's no way I can handle going there by myself. I will need to wait until next Saturday, when John can be with me. So I told him we would go see her then, and he asked what time. I suggested around 5:00, and he said no, they serve dinner then. (What difference does it make, if she doesn't eat?) So I asked if 4:00 is better; he said yes, but couldn't we come earlier? I didn't want to mention that we take John's mom out to lunch every Saturday; I didn't think that would go over well. (It does make a bit of difference that John's mom is five minutes away, versus my mother's 70 miles.) So I just said we had things to do, and we'll be there around 4:00.
He grudgingly said he might meet us there. He won't commit to it, and that's fine. If he does, he does; if he doesn't, he doesn't. If I'm that unforgivable, then I guess that's that.
I managed to hold it together until I hung up, then I lost it. Thank goodness for John. He didn't offer any platitudes or too many opinions, although I know he certainly has them. He held me close and said, "You did the best you could. I'm proud of you." I hold that phrase very dear, and he knows it.
Made it home, in rain that was pouring down so hard, I couldn't see. Pretty bizarre to see all of us on the freeway, normally 65 miles per hour, crawling along at 40 to avoid going into skids. It's good to be home. Despite the wretched experience of talking to M, I'm glad I got it over with.
Tomorrow, I can have some fun. Tomorrow, I can post something fun again. Thanks for bearing with me.
Just to wrap up the saga from Friday, I called M today. I told John, "Don't let me leave without calling him." Because I knew if John weren't there, my courage would fail. As it was, my heart was banging when I dialed the number.
It didn't go well. He wasn't mean, but he was cold. When I suggested that John and I come out next Saturday to have dinner with him, he said no, he'd rather not. Said he was hurt and flabbergasted by my absence and he'd just as soon not see us. I didn't try to explain myself; I knew I couldn't. Everything I could say would sound like a lame excuse. So I just said I'm sorry, I don't blame him, and there was no way I could make him understand where I was coming from, so there was no use in trying. He said "I understand, I think. But I can't condone it."
OK. I said that's fine, but I still want to see my mother. He said, "Well, you'd better hurry up." Ugh. I asked how she was, and he said she's still in the same facility, but under hospice care now. Round-the-clock care, never gets out of bed, almost never eats anything. Basically, they're just keeping her comfortable; it could be tomorrow, or it could be next year. He goes to see her every day. Sometimes, she recognizes him.
I can't go there during the week; there's no way I can handle going there by myself. I will need to wait until next Saturday, when John can be with me. So I told him we would go see her then, and he asked what time. I suggested around 5:00, and he said no, they serve dinner then. (What difference does it make, if she doesn't eat?) So I asked if 4:00 is better; he said yes, but couldn't we come earlier? I didn't want to mention that we take John's mom out to lunch every Saturday; I didn't think that would go over well. (It does make a bit of difference that John's mom is five minutes away, versus my mother's 70 miles.) So I just said we had things to do, and we'll be there around 4:00.
He grudgingly said he might meet us there. He won't commit to it, and that's fine. If he does, he does; if he doesn't, he doesn't. If I'm that unforgivable, then I guess that's that.
I managed to hold it together until I hung up, then I lost it. Thank goodness for John. He didn't offer any platitudes or too many opinions, although I know he certainly has them. He held me close and said, "You did the best you could. I'm proud of you." I hold that phrase very dear, and he knows it.
Made it home, in rain that was pouring down so hard, I couldn't see. Pretty bizarre to see all of us on the freeway, normally 65 miles per hour, crawling along at 40 to avoid going into skids. It's good to be home. Despite the wretched experience of talking to M, I'm glad I got it over with.
Tomorrow, I can have some fun. Tomorrow, I can post something fun again. Thanks for bearing with me.
Friday, March 23, 2012
Life
It's Friday. There are things to smile about. Heading for John's in a few hours. It's going to rain again this weekend. I got Chrossed (and congrats to everyone else who made the grade this week). And I'm getting a nice tax refund. It's enough to cover my annual car insurance premium, with enough leftover for... more bills. (sigh)
But I am ill at ease today, edgy and uncomfortable. It's one of those times where I need to write it out and come clean. Today is a "Life" entry.
I have not spoken to or seen my mother in over a year. The last time we talked on the phone, she didn't know who I was until I reminded her, and then she asked me how my brother was. It was around the same time that John was so ill, and I realized I just couldn't handle it. Something had to give; I didn't have enough in me to worry about both John and my mother. So I chose John, who is very much present and alive. My mother may be alive in body, but the person I knew is long gone.
For a while, I kept in touch with my stepfather. Talking with him was heartbreaking. When you're as old as he is, most of your friends are long gone. His mind is still as sharp as ever, but his body no longer cooperates. He can no longer golf or fish, two of his passions. He has emphysema and arthritis. I do believe he sticks around purely because my mother needs him to. When I would ask him how he is, he'd answer, "Well, I'm still alive, unfortunately."
Eventually, I stopped calling. He didn't call me, either. I thought about him and my mother every day, but time passed. And passed. I felt bad. But the thought of talking to him, or visiting him, brought on depression and anxiety.
But this week was his birthday, and I couldn't ignore that. So I sent him a card, and I wrote a message inside, saying that John and I would love to visit him this weekend and take him to dinner. I'd hoped that would re-establish some communication and I could go from there.
I came home from the gym to a voicemail from him. It was brief and curt. "Thanks for the card. I'm busy this Saturday, so I can't make it. Say hi to John, and take care. Goodbye." He didn't suggest rescheduling for another time.
He hates me, I guess. I don't blame him. Of course he sees me as a defector, uncaring. Self-involved. Abandoning him and my mother without a second thought.
John knows that isn't true, bless his heart. He said, "M doesn't understand. He can't. He's stuck in a miserable life, he feels lousy physically and emotionally. He doesn't know what you go through when you see your mother, how terrified you are, how it freaks you out for days. And maybe you could be a little kinder to her now, but it's damn hard, when she was so unkind to you for so many years."
I know it's not right, but I can't help it. I AM terrified of my mother, and repulsed too. I see my future in her and it scares me half to death. I don't want to end up like her, or like him. Polar opposites -- her with all her vital organs working well but her mind shot, and him with an intact mind and a failing body, but both dragging on and on. This is no way to come to the end of a life. This fucking SUCKS.
So I run and hide, because in this area, I am a coward. And because I have so many conflicted feelings about my mother, and it's too damn much for me.
M doesn't see that. He just sees that I've disappeared. Ironically, I've done the thing I most hate having done to me. When I'm in flippant mode, I say, "Well, my mother made sure to let me know, in so many ways over the years, what a disappointment I was to her. I'm just fulfilling that role." But I know what BS that is.
I know what I need to do; I need to call him. Push for making another dinner date, and follow through. Talk to him in person. And while I'm at it, visit my mother for one last time and say a proper goodbye. Tell her I'm sorry I wasn't what she'd hoped I'd be. And that I forgive her for the legacy of criticism and feelings of inferiority. She couldn't help it. She didn't like herself, either.
Perhaps when I'm with John tomorrow, with his help I'll work up the courage to make that phone call. Of course, I'll be hoping that I get voicemail.
It's amazing how the simplest of tasks can seem so overwhelming when your mindset is off. How the time comes to act, and you think, "Ughhhh... I'll do it tomorrow." And before you know it, several tomorrows have elapsed.
But hopefully tomorrow will be the last tomorrow where I say "I'll do it tomorrow." And if you could follow that, congratulations.
Thanks for listening. Have a great weekend, y'all.
But I am ill at ease today, edgy and uncomfortable. It's one of those times where I need to write it out and come clean. Today is a "Life" entry.
I have not spoken to or seen my mother in over a year. The last time we talked on the phone, she didn't know who I was until I reminded her, and then she asked me how my brother was. It was around the same time that John was so ill, and I realized I just couldn't handle it. Something had to give; I didn't have enough in me to worry about both John and my mother. So I chose John, who is very much present and alive. My mother may be alive in body, but the person I knew is long gone.
For a while, I kept in touch with my stepfather. Talking with him was heartbreaking. When you're as old as he is, most of your friends are long gone. His mind is still as sharp as ever, but his body no longer cooperates. He can no longer golf or fish, two of his passions. He has emphysema and arthritis. I do believe he sticks around purely because my mother needs him to. When I would ask him how he is, he'd answer, "Well, I'm still alive, unfortunately."
Eventually, I stopped calling. He didn't call me, either. I thought about him and my mother every day, but time passed. And passed. I felt bad. But the thought of talking to him, or visiting him, brought on depression and anxiety.
But this week was his birthday, and I couldn't ignore that. So I sent him a card, and I wrote a message inside, saying that John and I would love to visit him this weekend and take him to dinner. I'd hoped that would re-establish some communication and I could go from there.
I came home from the gym to a voicemail from him. It was brief and curt. "Thanks for the card. I'm busy this Saturday, so I can't make it. Say hi to John, and take care. Goodbye." He didn't suggest rescheduling for another time.
He hates me, I guess. I don't blame him. Of course he sees me as a defector, uncaring. Self-involved. Abandoning him and my mother without a second thought.
John knows that isn't true, bless his heart. He said, "M doesn't understand. He can't. He's stuck in a miserable life, he feels lousy physically and emotionally. He doesn't know what you go through when you see your mother, how terrified you are, how it freaks you out for days. And maybe you could be a little kinder to her now, but it's damn hard, when she was so unkind to you for so many years."
I know it's not right, but I can't help it. I AM terrified of my mother, and repulsed too. I see my future in her and it scares me half to death. I don't want to end up like her, or like him. Polar opposites -- her with all her vital organs working well but her mind shot, and him with an intact mind and a failing body, but both dragging on and on. This is no way to come to the end of a life. This fucking SUCKS.
So I run and hide, because in this area, I am a coward. And because I have so many conflicted feelings about my mother, and it's too damn much for me.
M doesn't see that. He just sees that I've disappeared. Ironically, I've done the thing I most hate having done to me. When I'm in flippant mode, I say, "Well, my mother made sure to let me know, in so many ways over the years, what a disappointment I was to her. I'm just fulfilling that role." But I know what BS that is.
I know what I need to do; I need to call him. Push for making another dinner date, and follow through. Talk to him in person. And while I'm at it, visit my mother for one last time and say a proper goodbye. Tell her I'm sorry I wasn't what she'd hoped I'd be. And that I forgive her for the legacy of criticism and feelings of inferiority. She couldn't help it. She didn't like herself, either.
Perhaps when I'm with John tomorrow, with his help I'll work up the courage to make that phone call. Of course, I'll be hoping that I get voicemail.
It's amazing how the simplest of tasks can seem so overwhelming when your mindset is off. How the time comes to act, and you think, "Ughhhh... I'll do it tomorrow." And before you know it, several tomorrows have elapsed.
But hopefully tomorrow will be the last tomorrow where I say "I'll do it tomorrow." And if you could follow that, congratulations.
Thanks for listening. Have a great weekend, y'all.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
I see the light!
On Monday's blog, I posted a photo I had very amateurly censored in Picasa Picnik, with an icon of NO with a circle and slash. I figured it served its purpose, somewhat, even though it was a bit goofy.
One of my friends decided my rendition detracted from the photo's esthetics. By his own admission, he has too much time on his hands, and he offered me a couple of Photoshopped alternatives. The second one made me laugh out loud, so I thought I'd share it.
Whaddaya know -- there IS a light at the end of the tunnel.
(ducking the tomatoes)
In other news, Pink sent me a link this morning. If you think my Correspondence Hall of Shame entries are outrageous, wait until you get a load of this. Put down all your beverages. You might also want to don a helmet, in case your head explodes. Go here, and enjoy.
How's everyone's week so far? You know, I've noticed something I'm calling the Wednesday rebound. On Tuesdays, I'm usually quite mellow and happy, basking in the afterglow of Monday night's activities. Then on Wednesday, I crash back into reality. Just about everyone and everything irritates me and I crave attention fiercely. So be kind to a crazy attention whore and leave me some love, will ya? Thanks! :-D Happy Hump Day.
One of my friends decided my rendition detracted from the photo's esthetics. By his own admission, he has too much time on his hands, and he offered me a couple of Photoshopped alternatives. The second one made me laugh out loud, so I thought I'd share it.
Whaddaya know -- there IS a light at the end of the tunnel.
(ducking the tomatoes)
In other news, Pink sent me a link this morning. If you think my Correspondence Hall of Shame entries are outrageous, wait until you get a load of this. Put down all your beverages. You might also want to don a helmet, in case your head explodes. Go here, and enjoy.
How's everyone's week so far? You know, I've noticed something I'm calling the Wednesday rebound. On Tuesdays, I'm usually quite mellow and happy, basking in the afterglow of Monday night's activities. Then on Wednesday, I crash back into reality. Just about everyone and everything irritates me and I crave attention fiercely. So be kind to a crazy attention whore and leave me some love, will ya? Thanks! :-D Happy Hump Day.
Monday, March 19, 2012
A visit from Mr. Hyde
(I'm going to beg the question here and assume y'all know the story of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.) :-)
I would say that most of the time, ST is Dr. Jekyll. Mild-mannered, soft-spoken, with a gentle nature despite his powerful right hand/arm.
Most of the time. But once in a while, when I least expect it, his inner Mr. Hyde comes out to play.
Tonight, he didn't even give me a hug when he came in the door. Just unceremoniously led me into the bedroom and pushed me facedown onto the bed. Not wasting any time, he pulled everything below my waist down and off.
"What did I do??" I blurted. He didn't answer, just gave me a few hard whacks. He pulled me back onto my feet, long enough to tie my hands together, then pushed me back down. After tying my feet, he then bound both ropes to the bed casters, so I couldn't budge.
"What did I DO?" I repeated. He leaned down and wound his fist into my hair.
"You didn't do anything."
Huh?
"I just have a head of steam built up, and I feel like spanking some ass. Since you're my spanking girl, you're the lucky recipient. And there isn't a damn thing you can do about it. Is there?"
I didn't answer, and he pulled my hair more firmly. "I asked you a question."
"No," I said meekly.
I suppose I should have been terrified. I trembled, but not from fear. I know I was in for it, and hard. But I also knew I was in very trusted hands.
And sometimes... sometimes, I like to go there. I like to play a little rough. But you guys know that.
You've also probably figured out that whenever ST is in Mr. Hyde mode, I usually end up in naked mode. Tonight, he decided my sweater and bra were in the way, after he'd tied my hands. So he just yanked them up and over my shoulders, where they remained bunched up for the rest of the scene.
Not to worry, it wasn't as uncomfortable as it looks. Just uncomfortable enough. :-)
Back on my stomach, I do believe I felt every implement in his bag, plus a couple of my own. All the while he teased me, said I had no idea what was coming next. He'd take brief breaks, caress my back and legs, then snap right back into the spanking. I couldn't cover my mouth with my hands, so I muffled it with the comforter. I could hardly move, but some of those implements made me writhe. Once, he tickled my feet with one hand and strapped me with the other. MEAN. Just mean.
He knew it, too. "I'm just so mean and horrible, aren't I?" I nodded vigorously. He leaned down to me once again. "But you like me that way, don't you!" Couldn't lie, now could I... I said yes.
"I guess we can get into some real spanking now, since the warmup is over, right?" he said.
"Whaaa?" I screeched. "There was no warmup!"
He insisted there was, but it was a "higher level" warmup. Oh, brother.
"Well, you're practically naked," he explained. "I was concerned that you'd get cold, so I wanted to make sure there was lots of heat emanating from your bottom."
OK, some things are just ridiculous. "You could have put on the fucking heater!" I hollered. Fortunately, by that point, Mr. Hyde was on his way out and ST just laughed.
But that didn't keep him from finishing me off with 20 belt strikes, followed by 20 paddle swats. Hard ones.
I really like the following photo, although I hate the straight-on angle. You all know how I feel about gyno shots. So yes, that is a little NO in a circle with a line through it, placed strategically. :-)
We were both extra relaxed and mellow after that scene. Guess it did us both good.
A couple of news bits: There is a new e-book available called
My First Spanking: An Anthology. It is a collection of stories about first spankings, compiled and edited by Cassandra Park and published by Ravenous Romance. Yours truly contributed a story. I figured everyone and their mother knows the story of my real first spanking by now, so I wrote a fictional tale called "Just Ask Me."
Also, Suzy's Spanking Union (S S U) just put up a lovely review of this blog. Thank you, Suzy! I appreciate the kind words and the nice shout-out. :-)
Now, if I could just keep all these yummy post-spanking feelings for more than a few hours. If only they could form an invisible shield, protecting me from all the BS outside my haven. But alas...
I guess that's why there are so many Mondays. Sweet dreams, my not-so-evil Mr. Hyde.
I would say that most of the time, ST is Dr. Jekyll. Mild-mannered, soft-spoken, with a gentle nature despite his powerful right hand/arm.
Most of the time. But once in a while, when I least expect it, his inner Mr. Hyde comes out to play.
Tonight, he didn't even give me a hug when he came in the door. Just unceremoniously led me into the bedroom and pushed me facedown onto the bed. Not wasting any time, he pulled everything below my waist down and off.
"What did I do??" I blurted. He didn't answer, just gave me a few hard whacks. He pulled me back onto my feet, long enough to tie my hands together, then pushed me back down. After tying my feet, he then bound both ropes to the bed casters, so I couldn't budge.
"What did I DO?" I repeated. He leaned down and wound his fist into my hair.
"You didn't do anything."
Huh?
"I just have a head of steam built up, and I feel like spanking some ass. Since you're my spanking girl, you're the lucky recipient. And there isn't a damn thing you can do about it. Is there?"
I didn't answer, and he pulled my hair more firmly. "I asked you a question."
"No," I said meekly.
I suppose I should have been terrified. I trembled, but not from fear. I know I was in for it, and hard. But I also knew I was in very trusted hands.
And sometimes... sometimes, I like to go there. I like to play a little rough. But you guys know that.
You've also probably figured out that whenever ST is in Mr. Hyde mode, I usually end up in naked mode. Tonight, he decided my sweater and bra were in the way, after he'd tied my hands. So he just yanked them up and over my shoulders, where they remained bunched up for the rest of the scene.
Not to worry, it wasn't as uncomfortable as it looks. Just uncomfortable enough. :-)
Back on my stomach, I do believe I felt every implement in his bag, plus a couple of my own. All the while he teased me, said I had no idea what was coming next. He'd take brief breaks, caress my back and legs, then snap right back into the spanking. I couldn't cover my mouth with my hands, so I muffled it with the comforter. I could hardly move, but some of those implements made me writhe. Once, he tickled my feet with one hand and strapped me with the other. MEAN. Just mean.
He knew it, too. "I'm just so mean and horrible, aren't I?" I nodded vigorously. He leaned down to me once again. "But you like me that way, don't you!" Couldn't lie, now could I... I said yes.
"I guess we can get into some real spanking now, since the warmup is over, right?" he said.
"Whaaa?" I screeched. "There was no warmup!"
He insisted there was, but it was a "higher level" warmup. Oh, brother.
"Well, you're practically naked," he explained. "I was concerned that you'd get cold, so I wanted to make sure there was lots of heat emanating from your bottom."
OK, some things are just ridiculous. "You could have put on the fucking heater!" I hollered. Fortunately, by that point, Mr. Hyde was on his way out and ST just laughed.
But that didn't keep him from finishing me off with 20 belt strikes, followed by 20 paddle swats. Hard ones.
I really like the following photo, although I hate the straight-on angle. You all know how I feel about gyno shots. So yes, that is a little NO in a circle with a line through it, placed strategically. :-)
We were both extra relaxed and mellow after that scene. Guess it did us both good.
A couple of news bits: There is a new e-book available called
My First Spanking: An Anthology. It is a collection of stories about first spankings, compiled and edited by Cassandra Park and published by Ravenous Romance. Yours truly contributed a story. I figured everyone and their mother knows the story of my real first spanking by now, so I wrote a fictional tale called "Just Ask Me."
Also, Suzy's Spanking Union (S S U) just put up a lovely review of this blog. Thank you, Suzy! I appreciate the kind words and the nice shout-out. :-)
Now, if I could just keep all these yummy post-spanking feelings for more than a few hours. If only they could form an invisible shield, protecting me from all the BS outside my haven. But alas...
I guess that's why there are so many Mondays. Sweet dreams, my not-so-evil Mr. Hyde.
Friday, March 16, 2012
Correspondence Hall of Shame, 3/16
Happy Friday, everyone. And how timely that I have one of these columns today. I am in one of my "too-many-people-are-too-fucking-stupid-and-I-need-to-move-to-another-planet" moods. So now I can release some of my aggression in a fairly innocuous manner.
We begin with this drivel, which has been sent to me four times, no less:
FORMER ROCK STAR Not really a rock superstar , but worked with some great groups including “Alice Cooper” and “Earth , Wind and Fire” , I was a great “jouneyman” musician , not a great songwriter , and a quality , but not unique voice. As with most musicans , incredible sexual adventures , which brought me to this world.. Now , a successful film/tv agent. A different approach..hopefully , successful. This site , and all “meeting sites” are difficult , in very different ways , for men and women. You get massive hits and emails , and men get limited responses. Perhaps my candor will work. This is all absolutely true. I’m 59...attractive , work out daily , in good shape (not a hunk , but when naked , in front of the mirror…I’m happy). Dominant , and when being that , a great Dom. In the past few years , I have “switched” and do find it interesting , but , no less the “Dom”. A simple proposal. Drinks or dinner. If nothing else , some great , intelligent conversation. Perhaps about this world , or life , or love. My profile is all true…and I promise you’ll find me charming , respectful , and fun...Sincere Thanks
Ooooooh! Earth, Wind and Fire! I can feel my panties dampening already!
First, you say you're 59 but your profile says you're 62. Second, you use way too damn many commas and a space before each of them is unnecessary. And third, ever wonder exactly why you get limited responses. Give that a think next time you're standing in front of the mirror naked. (brain bleach, please)
I am interested in gentle dildo training.
I should think you are. Because one should never train one's dildo harshly.
hello do you enjoy face sitting if so would you like to turn myface into your set and sit onit as long as you like or wear my face like its your panties
Ye gods. You attached your picture; I've seen your face. I don't want to sit on it, wear it or ever see it again.
Haven't gotten one of these for a while -- a form letter:
First let ME clarify that Ww/e have the time and resources to travel and be where we want when we want. We can travel nationally if we feel the person warrants it. Seriously searching we have the time to make the effort to meet truly serious people. PICS ON PROFILE.
Secondly, we can devote large amounts of time to training, play and lifestyle travel with you. If you are inexperienced, brand new, or live a distance, it is not a problem. We travel to you, if need be and in those cases where it has worked well we have you travel with us on kinky holidays, trips and to lifestyle resorts. If you are new you will be safe, learn at your own pace and be shown all that you need to know to be active in a safe way. For the more experienced we look for a different experience of intense edge play and intense scenes and complex play with larger equipment and scenes such as abduction, interrogation, play rape, forced use and humiliation.
Intense and commanding, educated and worldly, a skilled teacher, We seek primarly a fem sub/slave or couple to pursue the joys and pleasures of bdsm and the erotic arts. Both are fit, attractive, very creative, kinky, sexually on fire, and bring a very firm hand to training and discipline, but open and clear in our desires and wants. I have a great deal of experience, am very visual, a leather lover, enjoy complex “scenes”, and expert with MY tools and toys. We are a long term lifestyle Dom/sub couple and will take you sexually and mentally where you have not gone before.
We believe in safe, sane and have a strong need to dominate and use you in endless ways. I have done MY “homework” and know the power of the mind, understand submission and know well the role of a Master in the care and development of the submissive/slave mind. It’s not just about kinky sex, but about the blend of sex, control, submission and emotional need. The best have it in their DNA. She is bisexual, skilled and polished in the art of slavery and submission.
We have a full life being a successful professionals, direct and honest, passionate about life and living to the fullest. I am lean, passionate, strong hands and sexually insatiable using the body and mind for intense mind fucks. She is multi orgasmic, long legged and a lean blonde slut. I have trained and owned slaves in the past and am a skilled and patient teacher of “newbies” as well as those who are seasoned.
I enjoy, practice and excel at many fetishes including long sessions of bdsm, rope play, anal play, electric, rope and whip and flogger and a wide range of mental fetish play, sexual D/s, and adult exploration. I push boundaries including edge play, but take you there safely and back. I am active in the San Diego and LA bdsm communities, frequent the dungeons and private play parties and discreet meets and socials.
What a pity that I wasted my time reading all of this, when you so clearly didn't read a word of my profile.
I could go into all the reasons why what you've written to me is so, so inappropriate, but I don't have all weekend. Oh, and I prefer to call myself "experienced." Saying I'm "seasoned" makes it sound like I have 11 secret herbs and spices on my ass.
And the Gem of the Week goes to:
Hi, I know what u mean,not a sub you think like I do.you r a bottom--great one also---I have 50yrs.in the scene. I know what u want, I was in LEATHER ROSE Chi. many yrs. ago--know just how to please a Bottom, like u....I love your honesty! put the bozos in their place, My b day is Mar.17th. St. PADDLE. me day,ha ha,I d give u u my spanks,mmmmmm now back to u young lady,If i had u otk, i would take u (flying)---term 4 when you get soooo excited u get dizzy and shake as u orgasm.--not being crude just hot-wet moist. My uncle "tanned"my 16yr.old cousin 2-3x a week,that started my SPANKING career. got a chubby and loved to spank since then. You must have gotten hot when some one paddled u otk how old were u, first spanking???tets chat---lost my lil bottom 4yrs ago. play safe ---lets talk...a friend??I lived inYuca Valley
My dear fellow, I had many reactions to this, but "hot-wet moist" wasn't one of them. Put the bozos in their place, huh? Okie dokie. **plunk** And no, I didn't put you in the Recycle bin, either.
Why am I in a foul mood? Meh. Doesn't matter. Lots of little irritants. At least I get to escape to John's for a couple of days. And it's going to rain all weekend, which cheers me up. Yes, I know that's weird. What else is new.
So have a great weekend, y'all. Happy St. Paddy's Day. Wearing green = good. Drinking until you're green = notsomuch.
We begin with this drivel, which has been sent to me four times, no less:
FORMER ROCK STAR Not really a rock superstar , but worked with some great groups including “Alice Cooper” and “Earth , Wind and Fire” , I was a great “jouneyman” musician , not a great songwriter , and a quality , but not unique voice. As with most musicans , incredible sexual adventures , which brought me to this world.. Now , a successful film/tv agent. A different approach..hopefully , successful. This site , and all “meeting sites” are difficult , in very different ways , for men and women. You get massive hits and emails , and men get limited responses. Perhaps my candor will work. This is all absolutely true. I’m 59...attractive , work out daily , in good shape (not a hunk , but when naked , in front of the mirror…I’m happy). Dominant , and when being that , a great Dom. In the past few years , I have “switched” and do find it interesting , but , no less the “Dom”. A simple proposal. Drinks or dinner. If nothing else , some great , intelligent conversation. Perhaps about this world , or life , or love. My profile is all true…and I promise you’ll find me charming , respectful , and fun...Sincere Thanks
Ooooooh! Earth, Wind and Fire! I can feel my panties dampening already!
First, you say you're 59 but your profile says you're 62. Second, you use way too damn many commas and a space before each of them is unnecessary. And third, ever wonder exactly why you get limited responses. Give that a think next time you're standing in front of the mirror naked. (brain bleach, please)
I am interested in gentle dildo training.
I should think you are. Because one should never train one's dildo harshly.
hello do you enjoy face sitting if so would you like to turn myface into your set and sit onit as long as you like or wear my face like its your panties
Ye gods. You attached your picture; I've seen your face. I don't want to sit on it, wear it or ever see it again.
Haven't gotten one of these for a while -- a form letter:
First let ME clarify that Ww/e have the time and resources to travel and be where we want when we want. We can travel nationally if we feel the person warrants it. Seriously searching we have the time to make the effort to meet truly serious people. PICS ON PROFILE.
Secondly, we can devote large amounts of time to training, play and lifestyle travel with you. If you are inexperienced, brand new, or live a distance, it is not a problem. We travel to you, if need be and in those cases where it has worked well we have you travel with us on kinky holidays, trips and to lifestyle resorts. If you are new you will be safe, learn at your own pace and be shown all that you need to know to be active in a safe way. For the more experienced we look for a different experience of intense edge play and intense scenes and complex play with larger equipment and scenes such as abduction, interrogation, play rape, forced use and humiliation.
Intense and commanding, educated and worldly, a skilled teacher, We seek primarly a fem sub/slave or couple to pursue the joys and pleasures of bdsm and the erotic arts. Both are fit, attractive, very creative, kinky, sexually on fire, and bring a very firm hand to training and discipline, but open and clear in our desires and wants. I have a great deal of experience, am very visual, a leather lover, enjoy complex “scenes”, and expert with MY tools and toys. We are a long term lifestyle Dom/sub couple and will take you sexually and mentally where you have not gone before.
We believe in safe, sane and have a strong need to dominate and use you in endless ways. I have done MY “homework” and know the power of the mind, understand submission and know well the role of a Master in the care and development of the submissive/slave mind. It’s not just about kinky sex, but about the blend of sex, control, submission and emotional need. The best have it in their DNA. She is bisexual, skilled and polished in the art of slavery and submission.
We have a full life being a successful professionals, direct and honest, passionate about life and living to the fullest. I am lean, passionate, strong hands and sexually insatiable using the body and mind for intense mind fucks. She is multi orgasmic, long legged and a lean blonde slut. I have trained and owned slaves in the past and am a skilled and patient teacher of “newbies” as well as those who are seasoned.
I enjoy, practice and excel at many fetishes including long sessions of bdsm, rope play, anal play, electric, rope and whip and flogger and a wide range of mental fetish play, sexual D/s, and adult exploration. I push boundaries including edge play, but take you there safely and back. I am active in the San Diego and LA bdsm communities, frequent the dungeons and private play parties and discreet meets and socials.
What a pity that I wasted my time reading all of this, when you so clearly didn't read a word of my profile.
I could go into all the reasons why what you've written to me is so, so inappropriate, but I don't have all weekend. Oh, and I prefer to call myself "experienced." Saying I'm "seasoned" makes it sound like I have 11 secret herbs and spices on my ass.
And the Gem of the Week goes to:
Hi, I know what u mean,not a sub you think like I do.you r a bottom--great one also---I have 50yrs.in the scene. I know what u want, I was in LEATHER ROSE Chi. many yrs. ago--know just how to please a Bottom, like u....I love your honesty! put the bozos in their place, My b day is Mar.17th. St. PADDLE. me day,ha ha,I d give u u my spanks,mmmmmm now back to u young lady,If i had u otk, i would take u (flying)---term 4 when you get soooo excited u get dizzy and shake as u orgasm.--not being crude just hot-wet moist. My uncle "tanned"my 16yr.old cousin 2-3x a week,that started my SPANKING career. got a chubby and loved to spank since then. You must have gotten hot when some one paddled u otk how old were u, first spanking???tets chat---lost my lil bottom 4yrs ago. play safe ---lets talk...a friend??I lived in
My dear fellow, I had many reactions to this, but "hot-wet moist" wasn't one of them. Put the bozos in their place, huh? Okie dokie. **plunk** And no, I didn't put you in the Recycle bin, either.
Why am I in a foul mood? Meh. Doesn't matter. Lots of little irritants. At least I get to escape to John's for a couple of days. And it's going to rain all weekend, which cheers me up. Yes, I know that's weird. What else is new.
So have a great weekend, y'all. Happy St. Paddy's Day. Wearing green = good. Drinking until you're green = notsomuch.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
It's song parody time again
Been a while since I've done one of these. I do need to keep up with my fellow parodist Lea, after all.
Today's offering is based on the old standard "Fever." It's before a lot of y'all's time, but it's been covered countless times and the most popular version was done by Peggy Lee. However, ever the contrarian, I think Peggy Lee's version sucked. So I go back to the original and (IMO) the best, the most soulful and sexy, the version by Little Willie John. Give a listen; I think you'll find it's quite the cool song. Pay attention to the lyrics.
And now, while the song is fresh in your mind, here's my spanko version.
Never know how much I need you
Even when I whine and swear
When you put your hands upon me,
I get a feeling that I’m gonna be bare
You give me spanking,
When I’m sassy,
Spanking when I’m in a pique
Spanking, every evening
Spanking all through the week
Listen to me, brat girl
Hear every word I say
No one can tame you the way that I do
‘Cause they don’t know how to make you obey
I’ll give you spanking
When you’re naughty
Spanking when you say I’m meek
Spanking, every evening
Spanking all through the week!
Bring it on, I tell you
Take my stress away
Raise my skirt, take my panties down
And I’ll believe you when you say that I’ll pay
You’ll give me spanking
When I’m edgy
Spanking when release I seek
Spanking, every evening
Spanking all through the week
Hand lights up my bottom
Belt burns my upper thighs
My eyes fill up when you call my name
‘Cause I know you’ll take me down to size
You give me spanking,
When I bait you
Spanking when I give you cheek
Spanking, every evening
Spanking all through the week!
Hope you enjoyed! One more song you'll never hear quite the same way again. Happy Hump Day. :-D
Today's offering is based on the old standard "Fever." It's before a lot of y'all's time, but it's been covered countless times and the most popular version was done by Peggy Lee. However, ever the contrarian, I think Peggy Lee's version sucked. So I go back to the original and (IMO) the best, the most soulful and sexy, the version by Little Willie John. Give a listen; I think you'll find it's quite the cool song. Pay attention to the lyrics.
And now, while the song is fresh in your mind, here's my spanko version.
Never know how much I need you
Even when I whine and swear
When you put your hands upon me,
I get a feeling that I’m gonna be bare
You give me spanking,
When I’m sassy,
Spanking when I’m in a pique
Spanking, every evening
Spanking all through the week
Listen to me, brat girl
Hear every word I say
No one can tame you the way that I do
‘Cause they don’t know how to make you obey
I’ll give you spanking
When you’re naughty
Spanking when you say I’m meek
Spanking, every evening
Spanking all through the week!
Bring it on, I tell you
Take my stress away
Raise my skirt, take my panties down
And I’ll believe you when you say that I’ll pay
You’ll give me spanking
When I’m edgy
Spanking when release I seek
Spanking, every evening
Spanking all through the week
Hand lights up my bottom
Belt burns my upper thighs
My eyes fill up when you call my name
‘Cause I know you’ll take me down to size
You give me spanking,
When I bait you
Spanking when I give you cheek
Spanking, every evening
Spanking all through the week!
Hope you enjoyed! One more song you'll never hear quite the same way again. Happy Hump Day. :-D
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Of all the nerve!
So yesterday afternoon, I showed John the full Spanking Court final clip. He seemed to like this one the best of all; he kept cheering, chanting "Harder! Faster! Harder! Faster!" over and over, and he especially loved it when the Disciplinarian gave me the last 50 all on one cheek. "I love this! Can we watch it again? Can we?"
I rolled my eyes. "You can watch it all you want, if you'll just shut up!" He said we'd definitely have to give the neglected left cheek some attention. Yeah, yeah.
Later, we went to dinner at the local sushi place. We eat there about once a week; to say it's a small-town quirky place would be an understatement. It's tiny, run by one sushi chef who prepares everything, and he always has two or three young girls waiting tables for him. We've watched dozens of them come and go in the years we've been eating there; apparently, he's not much fun to work for and they always seem a bit nervous. So why do we eat there? Because despite the insanely erratic service and the semi-frequently screwed-up orders, the food is good. And John likes to support the businesses in his little town.
John suffers from migraine headaches. However, he is one of the lucky ones, if you can call a migraine sufferer lucky -- he feels them coming on early (his vision blurs), and he can always knock them down by ingesting anything with caffeine. So at the first sign, we immediately have to get either coffee, caffeinated soda or No-Doz into him. Time is of the essence.
So last night, we're sitting at our table when he got that telltale bleary, unfocused look in his eyes. Blinking, he ducked his head and mumbled, "I need caffeine." I knew what that meant.
Well duh, we were in a restaurant. Call the server over and ask for a cup of coffee, right? Not in this place! We've had to ask for water refills two and three times, usually. There was no such thing as getting anything "immediately" in this restaurant. And he didn't have any No-Doz on him.
I went on autopilot -- I snatched my wallet out of my purse, left our table and flew out the door. Outside, I ran two doors down to Happy's Liquor, grabbed a 20-oz bottle of Diet Coke, practically threw the money at the clerk and ran back to the restaurant, shoving the bottle into John's hands.
How ridiculous is this, being in a restaurant and yet having to run to a nearby liquor store to get a drink?? But it worked. He chugged the soda, and within minutes, his eyes cleared. A few minutes after that, we were served our food and he was able to eat just fine.
Back home later, I was at the bathroom sink washing my hands. John dashed in, snatched his hairbrush off the counter and started whaling away on my left butt cheek. "What are you doing?" I screeched.
"Getting that left cheek!"
"That's gratitude for you!" I hollered, trying to squirm away from him. "After I saved your evening!"
To this, my beloved quipped, "Who GAVE me the migraine in the first place?"
Well! You know, he's lucky he's so damn cute. Or I just might forget my bottom-only status and kick his ass from one end of town to the other. :-)
I rolled my eyes. "You can watch it all you want, if you'll just shut up!" He said we'd definitely have to give the neglected left cheek some attention. Yeah, yeah.
Later, we went to dinner at the local sushi place. We eat there about once a week; to say it's a small-town quirky place would be an understatement. It's tiny, run by one sushi chef who prepares everything, and he always has two or three young girls waiting tables for him. We've watched dozens of them come and go in the years we've been eating there; apparently, he's not much fun to work for and they always seem a bit nervous. So why do we eat there? Because despite the insanely erratic service and the semi-frequently screwed-up orders, the food is good. And John likes to support the businesses in his little town.
John suffers from migraine headaches. However, he is one of the lucky ones, if you can call a migraine sufferer lucky -- he feels them coming on early (his vision blurs), and he can always knock them down by ingesting anything with caffeine. So at the first sign, we immediately have to get either coffee, caffeinated soda or No-Doz into him. Time is of the essence.
So last night, we're sitting at our table when he got that telltale bleary, unfocused look in his eyes. Blinking, he ducked his head and mumbled, "I need caffeine." I knew what that meant.
Well duh, we were in a restaurant. Call the server over and ask for a cup of coffee, right? Not in this place! We've had to ask for water refills two and three times, usually. There was no such thing as getting anything "immediately" in this restaurant. And he didn't have any No-Doz on him.
I went on autopilot -- I snatched my wallet out of my purse, left our table and flew out the door. Outside, I ran two doors down to Happy's Liquor, grabbed a 20-oz bottle of Diet Coke, practically threw the money at the clerk and ran back to the restaurant, shoving the bottle into John's hands.
How ridiculous is this, being in a restaurant and yet having to run to a nearby liquor store to get a drink?? But it worked. He chugged the soda, and within minutes, his eyes cleared. A few minutes after that, we were served our food and he was able to eat just fine.
Back home later, I was at the bathroom sink washing my hands. John dashed in, snatched his hairbrush off the counter and started whaling away on my left butt cheek. "What are you doing?" I screeched.
"Getting that left cheek!"
"That's gratitude for you!" I hollered, trying to squirm away from him. "After I saved your evening!"
To this, my beloved quipped, "Who GAVE me the migraine in the first place?"
Well! You know, he's lucky he's so damn cute. Or I just might forget my bottom-only status and kick his ass from one end of town to the other. :-)
Friday, March 9, 2012
Final Spanking Court clip
Happy Friday, everyone. Smiles to my fellow Chrosslings.
Last night, the Spanking Court site put up the last of my clips with them, the grand finale to the ongoing arc from last year. The full clip is about 17 minutes, but if you're not a site member, you can see a promo of it here:
The Disciplinarian thought he had the last word, giving me the last 50 all on one cheek. (after I'd promised I'd behave myself and not protest anything, dammit) But it seems I had the last word after all. In this clip, you'll see how. :-)
I really do miss these people a lot. On Spanking Tube in the comments, SC said such nice things about me, I started to bawl. Even though this is the end of this particular story, I hope that the future holds another story with them.
In other news, I will not be shooting with Lily Starr tomorrow. The poor girl has had a terrible time of it; she has been ill and was in the hospital this week. Trouper that she is, she got out of the hospital Wednesday and insisted that we go through with the shoot, even though she felt awful. But last night, she wrote to me and said she just couldn't do it. I told her to focus on taking care and getting well, and this was a postponement, not a cancellation. Please hold good healing thoughts for her!
Don't forget to set your clocks ahead tomorrow night. Can I just say that I @#$%ing hate Daylight Savings? I'm a night owl -- I like it when it gets dark at 5:00-6:00. Sunlight until past 8:00 PM gives me a rash. Meh.
Oh well. Have a great weekend, y'all.
Last night, the Spanking Court site put up the last of my clips with them, the grand finale to the ongoing arc from last year. The full clip is about 17 minutes, but if you're not a site member, you can see a promo of it here:
The Disciplinarian thought he had the last word, giving me the last 50 all on one cheek. (after I'd promised I'd behave myself and not protest anything, dammit) But it seems I had the last word after all. In this clip, you'll see how. :-)
I really do miss these people a lot. On Spanking Tube in the comments, SC said such nice things about me, I started to bawl. Even though this is the end of this particular story, I hope that the future holds another story with them.
In other news, I will not be shooting with Lily Starr tomorrow. The poor girl has had a terrible time of it; she has been ill and was in the hospital this week. Trouper that she is, she got out of the hospital Wednesday and insisted that we go through with the shoot, even though she felt awful. But last night, she wrote to me and said she just couldn't do it. I told her to focus on taking care and getting well, and this was a postponement, not a cancellation. Please hold good healing thoughts for her!
Don't forget to set your clocks ahead tomorrow night. Can I just say that I @#$%ing hate Daylight Savings? I'm a night owl -- I like it when it gets dark at 5:00-6:00. Sunlight until past 8:00 PM gives me a rash. Meh.
Oh well. Have a great weekend, y'all.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Blackmail material??
Earlier this week, I received email from Andrew Morgan, photographer extraordinaire. I first met Andy at Shadow Lane 12 years ago and have had several wonderful sessions with him. He's also taken a few pictures; he's responsible for this favorite of mine, which most of you have seen over the years:
Anyway, he wrote that he'd found some old photos he didn't think I'd seen before, so he attached them. When I saw them, I laughed. And cringed just a little, too.
Fade back to Labor Day weekend, 2000 -- the Shadow Lane party in Palm Springs. Alexandria Panos and I had done our first SL video earlier that year, and we were asked if we'd model some clothing for Bobbie Tawse at the vendor fair. For those who aren't familiar with Bobbie's fashions, she specializes in drop-seat PJs, baby-doll dresses and other... well, youthful items. (check out her site here) Really cute stuff, and perfect for those who enjoy ageplay. However, y'all know how I feel about ageplay. Not my thing.
However, I was game for just about anything at that point. It was exciting to be selected for this sort of thing. Besides, we were paid for it. :-D
So Alex and I ran around the ballroom for two hours, wearing the PJs, the baby-dolls and pantaloons. (Can I just say that wearing full-length, high-necked, long-sleeved fleece PJs in August in a ballroom packed with hundreds of bodies was torturous?) The baby-dolls were comfortable and pretty, but honestly, I felt squicky in them. I was 42 years old, for God's sake.
I never saw the photos Andy took of us -- until this week. Ready for this?
That's nothing. Get a load of this one, of Alex and me. What the hell is up with that cheesy face I'm making? LOL!
Go ahead -- knock yourselves out. "Erica Scott had a woman's hands on her ass! OMG!"
You never know what's going to come back to haunt you. :-)
Also in this batch of pictures, Andy included a shot of John and me. I'm not sure when this is from, but I believe it's about 8-10 years old, because John hasn't had a beard for a long time.
That one didn't make me cringe at all. :-)
Haven't seen Andy for a few years, but he's coming to BBW! Yaaaayyyyyy!
Anyway, he wrote that he'd found some old photos he didn't think I'd seen before, so he attached them. When I saw them, I laughed. And cringed just a little, too.
Fade back to Labor Day weekend, 2000 -- the Shadow Lane party in Palm Springs. Alexandria Panos and I had done our first SL video earlier that year, and we were asked if we'd model some clothing for Bobbie Tawse at the vendor fair. For those who aren't familiar with Bobbie's fashions, she specializes in drop-seat PJs, baby-doll dresses and other... well, youthful items. (check out her site here) Really cute stuff, and perfect for those who enjoy ageplay. However, y'all know how I feel about ageplay. Not my thing.
However, I was game for just about anything at that point. It was exciting to be selected for this sort of thing. Besides, we were paid for it. :-D
So Alex and I ran around the ballroom for two hours, wearing the PJs, the baby-dolls and pantaloons. (Can I just say that wearing full-length, high-necked, long-sleeved fleece PJs in August in a ballroom packed with hundreds of bodies was torturous?) The baby-dolls were comfortable and pretty, but honestly, I felt squicky in them. I was 42 years old, for God's sake.
I never saw the photos Andy took of us -- until this week. Ready for this?
That's nothing. Get a load of this one, of Alex and me. What the hell is up with that cheesy face I'm making? LOL!
Go ahead -- knock yourselves out. "Erica Scott had a woman's hands on her ass! OMG!"
You never know what's going to come back to haunt you. :-)
Also in this batch of pictures, Andy included a shot of John and me. I'm not sure when this is from, but I believe it's about 8-10 years old, because John hasn't had a beard for a long time.
That one didn't make me cringe at all. :-)
Haven't seen Andy for a few years, but he's coming to BBW! Yaaaayyyyyy!
Monday, March 5, 2012
Just call me Rush
No, I'm not a big fat malevolent blowhard. But, like Mr. Limburger, I do have a big mouth that gets me in hot water sometimes. :-)
As I'd mentioned, I was overdue. And I think ST was overdue to top as well; he'd had a crappy week dealing with the trouble and expense of his truck. So there was an edgy sense of anticipation between us when he first walked in, and we wasted little time with preliminary chit-chat.
Once we were in the bedroom and I was over his lap, he asked what kind of mischief I'd been up to in the past week. I insisted I hadn't been up to any. "Yeah," he said, "because you've got restraining orders against you!"
Well, I like that! Just a couple of weeks ago, he was on MY side. "You said that it was OK to defend myself," I protested.
"It is -- but it's not OK to engage with douchebags!"
I don't know what possessed me. I opened my mouth and heard this come out: "But I engage with you!"
Oh, Christ. Did I really say that? There was a split second while those words hung in the air, and then he practically tore off my shorts and panties. "Warm-up is over," he growled, grabbing for his bag.
The next several minutes are a blur of pain and scolding. "You think that was a good idea, talking to me like that?" "You going to say something like that again?" Normally, I keep position fairly well, save for my one errant foot flipping up. But this time, I kicked and squirmed and struggled so hard, he put me in a leg-lock. I think that's the first time he's ever done that.
"You need this, don't you! Spanking cures everything. It even cures amnesia." Huh? Amnesia? As if he could read my mind, ST added, "It seems you've forgotten how to be nice to people. Haven't you!"
Ouch.
Yeah, I know I was just kidding with him. But I felt ashamed anyway. Of all the people to insult, even teasingly -- this wonderful, dependable guy. This suddenly felt very real, both physically and emotionally.
"I'm sorry!" I wept. "You'd better be," he said, not stopping. "And I'm not done making you sorry, either. Am I?"
"No-o-o..."
I didn't want him to stop. I wanted to cry and hurt and gasp for breath. I wanted to be pushed. He knew it.
We'd barely started here. You can see I'm fisting the bedclothes already.
I was actually marking a little. What does Dana call these, strawberries?
I don't know how long the spanking lasted; probably not as long as it seemed. But he packed a whole lot into a short time.
I continued crying after he finished, long after he soothed me with lotion and pressed tissues into my hand. I was embarrassed to raise my head, knowing I looked runny and drippy and smeary-eyed, so I kept my face buried.
He never pushes me to look at him, thank goodness. He just waits patiently, rubbing my back and smoothing my wild hair.
I snuggled closer to him, but didn't speak for quite a while. When I finally did, the first thing I whispered was, "You know I wouldn't insult you for real, don't you?"
I felt him chuckle; he said yes. I know he knew. But I needed to hear it anyway. Then he added, "If you did, you'd never sit again."
I laughed. That felt delicious, after all the tears.
Later, we played some more, in our usual lighter vein (lighter in mood, that is, not in intensity!). I really need to come up with a better way of storing my own implements. I loop a bunch of them onto a hanger, and then when I try to pull one off, they all come off and fall on the floor. Then, of course, he says we have to use them all!
No wonder I was pouting.
And no, he didn't beat me with the wire hanger! It just ended up on the bed. Along with nearly my entire Cane-iac collection. (groan) Even though it was just five strokes with each toy, I was well tenderized at that point.
I believe I will sleep peacefully and dreamlessly tonight.
Did I mention that he spanked me a third time when we were downloading the pictures from his camera? Good lord. I hope we don't skip a week again anytime soon. :-)
Thank you, sweetheart.
As I'd mentioned, I was overdue. And I think ST was overdue to top as well; he'd had a crappy week dealing with the trouble and expense of his truck. So there was an edgy sense of anticipation between us when he first walked in, and we wasted little time with preliminary chit-chat.
Once we were in the bedroom and I was over his lap, he asked what kind of mischief I'd been up to in the past week. I insisted I hadn't been up to any. "Yeah," he said, "because you've got restraining orders against you!"
Well, I like that! Just a couple of weeks ago, he was on MY side. "You said that it was OK to defend myself," I protested.
"It is -- but it's not OK to engage with douchebags!"
I don't know what possessed me. I opened my mouth and heard this come out: "But I engage with you!"
Oh, Christ. Did I really say that? There was a split second while those words hung in the air, and then he practically tore off my shorts and panties. "Warm-up is over," he growled, grabbing for his bag.
The next several minutes are a blur of pain and scolding. "You think that was a good idea, talking to me like that?" "You going to say something like that again?" Normally, I keep position fairly well, save for my one errant foot flipping up. But this time, I kicked and squirmed and struggled so hard, he put me in a leg-lock. I think that's the first time he's ever done that.
"You need this, don't you! Spanking cures everything. It even cures amnesia." Huh? Amnesia? As if he could read my mind, ST added, "It seems you've forgotten how to be nice to people. Haven't you!"
Ouch.
Yeah, I know I was just kidding with him. But I felt ashamed anyway. Of all the people to insult, even teasingly -- this wonderful, dependable guy. This suddenly felt very real, both physically and emotionally.
"I'm sorry!" I wept. "You'd better be," he said, not stopping. "And I'm not done making you sorry, either. Am I?"
"No-o-o..."
I didn't want him to stop. I wanted to cry and hurt and gasp for breath. I wanted to be pushed. He knew it.
We'd barely started here. You can see I'm fisting the bedclothes already.
I was actually marking a little. What does Dana call these, strawberries?
I don't know how long the spanking lasted; probably not as long as it seemed. But he packed a whole lot into a short time.
I continued crying after he finished, long after he soothed me with lotion and pressed tissues into my hand. I was embarrassed to raise my head, knowing I looked runny and drippy and smeary-eyed, so I kept my face buried.
He never pushes me to look at him, thank goodness. He just waits patiently, rubbing my back and smoothing my wild hair.
I snuggled closer to him, but didn't speak for quite a while. When I finally did, the first thing I whispered was, "You know I wouldn't insult you for real, don't you?"
I felt him chuckle; he said yes. I know he knew. But I needed to hear it anyway. Then he added, "If you did, you'd never sit again."
I laughed. That felt delicious, after all the tears.
Later, we played some more, in our usual lighter vein (lighter in mood, that is, not in intensity!). I really need to come up with a better way of storing my own implements. I loop a bunch of them onto a hanger, and then when I try to pull one off, they all come off and fall on the floor. Then, of course, he says we have to use them all!
No wonder I was pouting.
And no, he didn't beat me with the wire hanger! It just ended up on the bed. Along with nearly my entire Cane-iac collection. (groan) Even though it was just five strokes with each toy, I was well tenderized at that point.
I believe I will sleep peacefully and dreamlessly tonight.
Did I mention that he spanked me a third time when we were downloading the pictures from his camera? Good lord. I hope we don't skip a week again anytime soon. :-)
Thank you, sweetheart.
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Yes
Tonight, I found this in my email:
I'll give you some tan lines.
I suspect he's not talking about the types that will give me skin cancer. Yes. Bring it. I am overdue.
After the ongoing suckfest otherwise known as Last Week, I do believe this week will be better. At least I will be starting it properly.
In other news, John had his knee drained with a 12-gauge needle last Friday. He says he didn't feel it, however, thanks to the pre-shot of Lidocaine. Poor thing was a bit gimpy this weekend and we weren't able to do much, but he was in good spirits. Even after he heard from his niece, regarding her wedding. Last Christmas, he offered to contribute a couple of bottles of port from his collection for her rehearsal dinner. It seems that offer has morphed into his providing the champagne for the entire wedding. With 170 people.
(sigh) I see his sister plotting "Let's stick it to Johnny the Cash Cow" all over this. And he'll do it, too. This wedding is going to be interesting. As John put it cheerfully last night as we enjoyed our sushi: "Well, here's one thing we can look forward to. It'll get a lot worse before it's over."
And finally -- looks like Rush Limbaugh really stuck his foot in his mouth this time. That's a start, I guess. I'd rather see a foot shoved up his ass. Preferably wearing a size 16 shoe with cleats.
Yes, I need a spanking.
I'll give you some tan lines.
I suspect he's not talking about the types that will give me skin cancer. Yes. Bring it. I am overdue.
After the ongoing suckfest otherwise known as Last Week, I do believe this week will be better. At least I will be starting it properly.
In other news, John had his knee drained with a 12-gauge needle last Friday. He says he didn't feel it, however, thanks to the pre-shot of Lidocaine. Poor thing was a bit gimpy this weekend and we weren't able to do much, but he was in good spirits. Even after he heard from his niece, regarding her wedding. Last Christmas, he offered to contribute a couple of bottles of port from his collection for her rehearsal dinner. It seems that offer has morphed into his providing the champagne for the entire wedding. With 170 people.
(sigh) I see his sister plotting "Let's stick it to Johnny the Cash Cow" all over this. And he'll do it, too. This wedding is going to be interesting. As John put it cheerfully last night as we enjoyed our sushi: "Well, here's one thing we can look forward to. It'll get a lot worse before it's over."
And finally -- looks like Rush Limbaugh really stuck his foot in his mouth this time. That's a start, I guess. I'd rather see a foot shoved up his ass. Preferably wearing a size 16 shoe with cleats.
Yes, I need a spanking.
Friday, March 2, 2012
A timely treatise on tan lines
This week, my buddy Secret Spanko wrote a blog about tan lines and how appealing they look on spankees. He included several pretty pictures and linked to several other bloggers who had written about the same topic. Check him out, and give him some love, will ya?
Lest you think I'm writing this to pick on or piggyback upon my pal, rest assured -- this post was his suggestion. :-)
I've lived in California all my life; I understand the appeal of a suntan. I grew up in the Coppertone and Johnson's Baby Oil era. No one talked about SPFs or skin cancer; getting a tan was the holy grail, as it made us look young, sexy and healthy. Alas, while I didn't inherit my mother's red hair, I got her redhead's fair skin, and all I did was burn and freckle, pretty much remaining pasty white. However, I did have a few tan summers in my late teens/early 20s, as I was working evenings and spent days by the apartment pool. So I was happy to finally have that golden California glow.
I didn't know any better. But my younger spanko sisters? You do.
Honestly, I understand the appeal of tan lines. Years ago when self-tanner came onto the market, I was overjoyed. Granted, the early self-tanners were gross -- they smelled awful and they made your skin orange-y. But they gradually improved and now, I can get a pretty decent tan via Jergen's Natural Glow. And when I do, I leave my panties on so I can have a little bit of tan line myself.
And here's a classic tan-lines shot:
Very sexy indeed. But here's something that definitely isn't:
Yup, that's my forearm. Never mind that it's covered with sun/agespots (I could call them freckles, but I wouldn't be kidding anyone). See that big white scar? That's skin cancer, kiddies. Squamous cell carcinoma. Not as lethal as melanoma, but still potentially dangerous.
So I had it burned off. Ever smell your own skin burning? It's grotesque.
I'm not telling you guys to completely avoid the sun; I know that's unlikely. But please, please use sunscreen. There are so many good ones now. And for God's sake, don't use tanning booths. Ever. Under any circumstance. Respect your beautiful skin and don't nuke it.
Next time anyone tells you you'd look sexier with a tan, ask them if they think skin cancer is sexy.
OK, just so I don't end on such a morbid note, I'll share a funny tan line story. When I was 18 and working at the fast-food place, I hated the days when the store supervisor would visit. Jerry was an "older man" (30) and a lech to end all leches. He'd watch us girls, leering at us, making comments, blocking our way as we tried to pass him. If someone like him existed in today's work climate, he'd be buried in sexual harassment lawsuits.
One day, I was wiping the tables in the dining room. Jerry and our manager Mike were sitting there eating, watching me, laughing and whispering. Ugh, I thought. I'm in for it now. Sure enough, Jerry called me over.
"Hey, Erica," he smirked, giving me the up-and-down look. "You've got a nice tan there. Been sunbathing?" I said thank you, yes, I have.
He and Mike exchanged a glance, and Mike snickered. "Bet you have some nice tan lines, huh?" Jerry said.
"Yeah, I guess I do," I smiled.
"Mmmmmm," Jerry sneered. "I'd sure like to see 'em."
OK, you bastard. Two can play at this game. I beamed at him. "Would you like to see one right now?"
I watched both their jaws drop. "Sure!"
I leaned over the table, stuck my arm in front of him, and slowly pulled my watch up my arm, revealing the white stripe on my wrist. "There you go."
They were speechless. I smiled triumphantly and went back to my cleaning. :-)
Have a great weekend, y'all.
Lest you think I'm writing this to pick on or piggyback upon my pal, rest assured -- this post was his suggestion. :-)
I've lived in California all my life; I understand the appeal of a suntan. I grew up in the Coppertone and Johnson's Baby Oil era. No one talked about SPFs or skin cancer; getting a tan was the holy grail, as it made us look young, sexy and healthy. Alas, while I didn't inherit my mother's red hair, I got her redhead's fair skin, and all I did was burn and freckle, pretty much remaining pasty white. However, I did have a few tan summers in my late teens/early 20s, as I was working evenings and spent days by the apartment pool. So I was happy to finally have that golden California glow.
I didn't know any better. But my younger spanko sisters? You do.
Honestly, I understand the appeal of tan lines. Years ago when self-tanner came onto the market, I was overjoyed. Granted, the early self-tanners were gross -- they smelled awful and they made your skin orange-y. But they gradually improved and now, I can get a pretty decent tan via Jergen's Natural Glow. And when I do, I leave my panties on so I can have a little bit of tan line myself.
And here's a classic tan-lines shot:
Very sexy indeed. But here's something that definitely isn't:
Yup, that's my forearm. Never mind that it's covered with sun/agespots (I could call them freckles, but I wouldn't be kidding anyone). See that big white scar? That's skin cancer, kiddies. Squamous cell carcinoma. Not as lethal as melanoma, but still potentially dangerous.
So I had it burned off. Ever smell your own skin burning? It's grotesque.
I'm not telling you guys to completely avoid the sun; I know that's unlikely. But please, please use sunscreen. There are so many good ones now. And for God's sake, don't use tanning booths. Ever. Under any circumstance. Respect your beautiful skin and don't nuke it.
Next time anyone tells you you'd look sexier with a tan, ask them if they think skin cancer is sexy.
OK, just so I don't end on such a morbid note, I'll share a funny tan line story. When I was 18 and working at the fast-food place, I hated the days when the store supervisor would visit. Jerry was an "older man" (30) and a lech to end all leches. He'd watch us girls, leering at us, making comments, blocking our way as we tried to pass him. If someone like him existed in today's work climate, he'd be buried in sexual harassment lawsuits.
One day, I was wiping the tables in the dining room. Jerry and our manager Mike were sitting there eating, watching me, laughing and whispering. Ugh, I thought. I'm in for it now. Sure enough, Jerry called me over.
"Hey, Erica," he smirked, giving me the up-and-down look. "You've got a nice tan there. Been sunbathing?" I said thank you, yes, I have.
He and Mike exchanged a glance, and Mike snickered. "Bet you have some nice tan lines, huh?" Jerry said.
"Yeah, I guess I do," I smiled.
"Mmmmmm," Jerry sneered. "I'd sure like to see 'em."
OK, you bastard. Two can play at this game. I beamed at him. "Would you like to see one right now?"
I watched both their jaws drop. "Sure!"
I leaned over the table, stuck my arm in front of him, and slowly pulled my watch up my arm, revealing the white stripe on my wrist. "There you go."
They were speechless. I smiled triumphantly and went back to my cleaning. :-)
Have a great weekend, y'all.
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